Page 4 of Endless Depths

They say still waters run deep, but Morgan’s depths are endless, and even though the ocean is stronger, I believe him.

TWO

Morgan

Don’t leaveport on a Friday. Step onto the boat with your right foot first. Whistling summons storms. No bananas on the boat!

I don’t believe in fishing superstitions, but I understand why most fishermen do. When death lurks beneath the surface of icy waters and rogue waves shred boats into splinters, you’ll cling to whatever superstition you can for the illusion that you have control over your fate.

Freezing rain pelts my jacket. Waves crash and churn so violently they drown out the droning hydraulics on deck. The minor storm forecasted has surged into a miserable squall, worsening with each hour of hard labor. An arctic typhoon is on the way, and we’re racing the wind to haul our traps before the brunt of the storm hits.

At least Cole’s safe in the wheelhouse. For now. Seb hasn’t left the helm all week unless we force him away from the wheel to sleep.

Each year, we fish for three types of crab from fall until deep into the Alaskan winter. We breezed through red king crab and bairdi, but the opilio crab season has been a nightmare. A small fishing boat went down last week. Luckily, the Coast Guard rescued the crew from a tattered life raft beforehypothermia set in, but it rattled all of us. Boats don’t sink as often as they used to, so it’s a grim reminder of how fragile and fleeting life can be.

“Ready when you are, Mor,” Cole says over the PA as he pulls theBriar Anterosalongside a pair of orange buoys fighting to float above the waves.

I hurl my grappling hook toward the space between them, snagging the line of rope connecting them to the crab trap at the bottom of the ocean.

We all move in silent synchrony to hoist the seven-by-seven-foot trap to the water’s surface. After more than a decade working together, we’ve mastered the job down to muscle memory.

Well, except for Alejo. Seb took him under his wing last year and gave him a job after he found him sleeping on our deck back in Seattle. He’s a quick learner, but it’ll probably take him another year or two to become a solid deckhand.

“I feel like I’m watching a funeral,” Cole says.

“Maybe it’s my funeral.” Lawrence yawns. “I’d rather be dead than work another hour on deck.”

“We’ve only been at it for twelve hours,” Wes murmurs around the cigarette dangling between his lips. “Not going soft on us already, are you, Lawless?”

Most Bering Sea fishermen are tall and brawny, but Wes has two or three inches on the rest of us and is built like he can bench press a crab pot. Rumor has it, he’s done exactly that to win a drunken bet. The man’s a legend at only forty-two; survived not one, but two sinking ships.

Alejo shuffles from one foot to the other at the rail as we wait in suspense for the trap to rise above the water. “Please, please, please.”

“Keep your feet on the ground and stop fidgeting before you fall on your ass or get caught in the bite,” Javi says.

“Oh no. Mr. OSHA’s at it again,” Lawrence shouts, rolling the massive steel sorting table into position.

Last week, a rogue wave broke the wheel locks, and the tablekeeps popping off the tracks, despite my best attempts to weld it back together.

I peer over the rail as the pot emerges from the water and exhale at the sight of crab piling toward the top. “There’s money in this one, boys.”

Wes guides the wrecking ball of crab up and over the rail from his station at the hydraulic controls, while Javi and Alejo spin it into position.

“Thank fuck,” Javi says. “I need to get home.”

“Trouble with Gabi?” Wes asks, sliding a crab the size of his head down the metal chute.

“Yeah. She seems pretty serious about it this time. Even gave me an ultimatum.” He drops a rejected crab into the plastic bin. “Quit fishing, take a paramedic job full-time, have two kids by the time she’s thirty.”

Lawrence winces. “Two kids in three years? You better get on that. Or should I say her?”

“Shut the hell up, Lawless.”

“Lawrence, bait duty,” Cole says through the two-way speaker.

Lawrence jumps. “Stop eavesdropping. It’s creepy.”

Alejo laughs. “Thanks for taking my job.”